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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28747059">Kingdom Come</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gl1scor/pseuds/gl1scor'>gl1scor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blood and Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rivalry, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:21:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28747059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gl1scor/pseuds/gl1scor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Heavy footfall, thunderous hooves, the clashing screech of steel against steel. The soundtrack of war was one that Clay was familiar with, one that he found comfort in from it’s familiarity. Violence and conflict was a given in his life.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>a tryant, a runaway king, and an owed throne.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kingdom Come</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW for violence and gore in this chapter! Please stay safe &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Heavy footfall, thunderous hooves, the clashing screech of steel against steel. The soundtrack of war was one that Clay was familiar with, one that he found comfort in from it’s familiarity. Violence and conflict was a given in his life, one he’d grown up with and adapted to fit- onlookers would show pity, for the boy no older than 16 with scarred hands and tousled hair. Of course, he never understood why they’d think such things. He had the heart of a warrior and royal blood, and even at such a young age he knew that the cards he’d been played in life were far above the average person, so why shouldn’t he be proud?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The day they’d arranged to launch their attack on Opheosea was the day of Clay’s 17th birthday. He didn’t mention it, and neither did anyone else. Instead, he chose to smother any feelings of upset about his birthday being so clearly ignored by sparring every member of the knight he could get to agree to doing so. The dull ache in his body after hours of fighting distracted him from it well enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The morning of the attack, Clay’s servant brought him a warm pastry and some kind words, and it served to quell his bitterness by a small amount. The pastry’s sweetness and warmth was a very appreciated comfort that he indulged in as he silently walked to his private stables in the bitter morning air. He saddled his horse, equipped her with armour, and broke off a small corner of his pastry to share with her. Silently, he prayed that she’d come back from their attack today alive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She snorted quietly when he stilled his hand on the back of her neck, and turned to nudge and sniff at it. For the first time in a few days, Clay breathed out a fond laugh, which dissipated into a weak fog in the cold air.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be safe, won’t you girl?” He mumbled. The large horse stared down at him and blinked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Breaching the walls of Opheosea wasn’t as easy as they’d initially anticipated, and what they assumed to be an easy barge through some scrawny mage guards ended up being a gruesome conflict between the mages of Opheosea and the knights from Zurian.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brooding and imposing golems of pure element were raised from beneath the crumbling soul, their magically imbued joints crackling with energy and groaning with effort. A hulking figure made from a mixture of steel and copper lunged for the first line of horsemen, the line that Clay was leading alongside. It was only when Clay had narrowly avoided being crushed by the gargantuan arms of the golem, tumbling off of his spooked horse and scrambling into the undergrowth for cover, did he glance up at the fortified walls of Opheosea to see the true extent of their magical defence. Across the cobbled walls that marked the borders of Opheosea, carefully etched runes glowed brightly as their contained magics activated. A heavy wave of dread washed over Clay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This was an enemy he’d never even before seen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anguished shrieks, crashing, and the scuffle of panicked crowds trying to run to safety. This soundtrack was one George was certainly not familiar with. Opheosea was never a kingdom of violence, and their last war was fought years before George was even born. The faraway sounds of yelling and echoed booms made him tremble, yet everyone who was barging past him didn’t even look twice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t even attempt to help the terrified heir to their own throne.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A cold hand on his shoulder broke George’s fear-fueled stupor, and he whipped his head back to see who was suddenly touching him. Thoughts of a battle-scarred and bloodthirsty knight came to mind, which only further led to frighten him more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your highness-“ The familiarity of the voice soothed George, and his shoulders slumped at the sound.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Will- what’s happening?” He interrupted, speech sounding rushed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s an attack- Zurian’s lot, we reckon. They’re stuck at the gates with the mages and golems, though.” Was Wilbur’s smooth reply, he was always better at handling tense situations.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew those golems were a good idea, I bet dad feels real stupid now.” George joked, wanting to make light of the situation, even if only for his own sake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If the sympathetic look Wilbur gave him in return was anything to go off of, Wilbur could see right through his attempt at lightheartedness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two had known eachother since they were children, George having met Wilbur at the grand lake outside of Opheosea walls. Wilbur was a siren, having clawed hands that were surprisingly gentle, and iridescent scales lining the sides of his face. By all accounts, Wilbur was alluring and beautiful just like his kind should’ve been, but he just didn’t have the personality to boot. Luring in ignorant travellers and drowning them never appealed to him, and he’d left his family at a young age to travel.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George had spotted him and called out, not seeming at all scared by the boy. From the day on, George would sneak out to meet him, bringing the boy food and clothes. Eventually, George decided he wanted his new friend to come and stay with him at his castle. The young boy was a prince, and at his age hadn’t had to deal with being told ‘no’.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George was pulled from his own memory by Wilbur pulling him along by the arm to a separate room within the castle, one that was packed full of supplies and barrels.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“George, you have to leave. I’ll pack you supplies and some clothes, but you need to leave before they get into the walls.” The siren said to him, tone calm for the serious words. He began to gather bags of food while he spoke, wrapping bundles in cloth and putting them to the side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George spluttered, caught off guard by the words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re expecting me to run from the first battle for </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> kingdom, Will?” He snapped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You- I...You can’t just send me away! I’m the prince.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And your father’s word is above that. He ordered me to evacuate you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The prince furrowed his eyebrows at this. Of course his father would want him out of the way in the fight, the old man didn’t see him as anything but a runt that couldn’t hold his own. When Wilbur glanced back and caught the pendulant look on George’s face, he laughed fondly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He wants you safe, Georgie. You’ve never seen soldiers like the Zurians. The kingdom needs you safe.” Wilbur soothed, digging out a large satchel and thick furred cloak from a cupboard and setting them out on the table he’d been organising the food on. After making sure the food was secure and safe within the satchel, he carefully put the strap of it over George’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do it myse-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, your highness.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George laughed, and shook his head. Wilbur wrapped the fur cloak around George’s narrow shoulders, securing the clasp at its front, and laughing at how the garment seemed to drown the boy wearing it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at you, all set out for your first royal emergency evacuation.” He said, wryly. George snorted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not coming with me?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur shook his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine without me, it’s okay. They have a horse all saddled up for you at the stables, and you’ll ride out back into the forest and up to the old sanctuary.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When will I come back?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone will send for you, maybe they’ll send one of those fancy magic messenger things.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur faltered, frowning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I...Uh. George, you shouldn’t worry,” The man started, feeling his heart sink at how he watched George’s expression fall. “, but you can’t be certain I’ll make it out of this battle- you can’t be sure of that with anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The way George reached out to clasp at Wilbur’s sleeve, the look of horror in his eyes, it all made Wilbur want to crumble on the spot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come with me, Wilbur. Please.” He whispered, eyes becoming glassy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“George, I can’t-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? I’m the prince, I can tell them to let me take you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have people here to keep safe, too. You know that.” Wilbur frowned. “Tommy and Toby are just kids, George. I have to be there to keep them safe, I don’t think I could handle it if I didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>George couldn’t argue with that, not even he was that selfish. Instead, he reached up to pull the much taller man into a crushing hug. Wilbur’s arms wrapped around George’s small waist, and he embraced the other like it was the last time he’d be able to do so.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay safe for me, Will.” George murmured into Wilbur’s chest. “That’s an order.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur chuckled and agreed, despite the feeling deep in his chest that told him he’d end up slaughtered within the masses of citizens before George even reached the sanctuary.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, your highness.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clay roared as he drove his blade through the chest of one of the offending mages, watching their eyes glow with arcane energy and then grow dull as life left them. Dismissively, he shook the now impaled body off of his blade to crumple pathetically to the bloodied earth. Both sides seemed to still as one of the hulking golems froze, then collapsed to the ground into now unanimated lumps of metal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The mages were connected to them- of course!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re all cowards!” Clay barked at the line of mages blocking their path, and brought up his dirtied sword to point at them, accusingly. “Cowards that are too weak to fight like men!”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The yells and hollers of agreement from Clay’s soldiers filled him with a confidence that they’d be able to break through the forces, and the mass of soldiers surged forward with their weapons drawn and spirit revigored.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One by one, the mages were struck down where they stood; be it by crossbow bolt, arrow to the neck, or the blade of a sword. With them, the hulking titans they used as reinforcement were returned to the soil that they emerged from, alongside those who created them. None of the fallen mages weren’t mourned, Clay’s men simply stepped over them to enter the kingdom, and their bodies would be left until stumbled across in the upturned earth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cityfolk cowered, scattering from the Zurian soldiers as they approached. Clay caught sight of many non-human races, and sneered. Opheosea’s willingness to not only allow free magic, but to provide refuge to all sorts of races only lead to its downfall in his opinion. In Zurian, the most he’d see of other races were the occasional hybrid merchant coming in and out of its walls, so seeing Opheosea’s population of daemon and fae living together, sirens and shapeshifters being allowed to roam...It made him feel sick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Creatures like these deserve to be locked up,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so they don’t turn and backstab you, like their nature makes them do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t let his own feelings towards the citizens distract him, though. Before they started the journey to Opheosea, Clay’s father had tasked him with a mission for their attack. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kill the king in his bedchamber, where he would stay locked in the event of an attack, and then kill his wife too. Their spy had informed them that the king had no heirs, so with the man dead, the kingdom would be in perfect condition for capture.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As armoured knights of all race rushed from the castle walls, some holding weapons Clay recognised and some wielding weapons he had never even seen before, Clay quickly slipped back through the crowds of his soldiers and into the first alley he could see. Earlier that morning, he’d visited their castle brewery and requested an invisibility potion to be brewed for him. The potion was kept securely in a pocket on his belt, and he carefully pulled it out and uncorked the bottle. The viscous fluid seemed to glimmer and swirl in the light, and made Clay’s tongue taste cold as he drank it. Making sure to carefully tuck the bottle back into his pocket for later reuse, the now invisible prince began to make his way to the main castle grounds. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Narrowly avoiding a pair of guards that were walking toward the castle gates, Clay slipped into the main entrance of the castle and quickly made his way up the grand carpeted stairs. Absently, he noted the abundance of rich blue that accented the building- tapestry, curtains, the silky carpet under his feet as he ran, all of it was a striking blue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This thought was quickly pushed aside when he reached the top of the grand staircase, and he scrambled around the corner to run down the corridor at the top. He knew the King’s bedchamber was at the top of another set of stairs down this wing, and that it had a grand oak door he could differentiate it with.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking the next set of stairs two steps at a time, he rushed up them. All guards had left to join the fight that was happening in the courtyard, the king insisting he was competent enough with his magic to fend for himself. Internally, he thanked the old man’s misplaced confidence. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clay slipped open the door just enough to slip inside, and closed it silently. The king was standing, back toward the door, and staring out of his balcony. Clay had never seen the man in person, but knew of his blood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>High elf, a kind with magic that ran strong through him. He was tall, but graceful, his long pointed ears adorning piercings and rings on his fingers that rested on the polished marble of his balcony. His hair fell across his shoulders in a wave, with thick strands of a chestnut brown mixed with lighter streaks of honey. The king blocked out the setting sun, light flaring from the edges of his cast shadow. By all accounts, the man was beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clay moved, feet scuffling on the floor as he reached to unsheath his blade and lunged to bury it in the king’s neck. Everything moved so fast, adrenaline made the edges of his vision darken.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, as quick as the draconic prince had lunged for a killing blow, he found himself rooted in place where he stood. He bared his teeth to reveal sharp crooked canines, yet found himself quelled once the elven king turned to meet his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let go of me! You- freak! Stop using magic like a cowar-”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’re young for an assassin.” The king cut in smoothly, and Clay suddenly felt an awful lot like a chastised child. He growled indignantly at how his aggressions were completely ignored by the king.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’m old enough.” He snapped.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Draconic…” The king leaned toward Clay, seeming to inspect the boy closer. The royal couldn’t help but notice how the king’s eyes shone- the brown of his irises catching the setting sun and erupting into a glowing gold. “Goodness, you’re not the heir to King Zurian, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite everything, the one thing that caught Clay’s attention was how the king’s foreign accent weighed on his words and made them sound smooth.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What about it?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“He’s heartless, sending someone your age to assassinate a king.” The sympathy in the man’s eyes made Clay’s chest burn in a way he hated. “If you want to leave, I’ll let you. I’ll let you go and you can tell your father I escaped.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Another growl bubbled from Clay’s throat, and he used all of his willpower to try and break from the binding spell. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Don’t...fucking-”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He moved his hand, feeling as if it was held down by braces of iron, and lodged the dagger into the smooth, perfect skin of the king. As quick as the spell that bound him appeared, it vanished as the king collapsed to his knees to clutch at the wound in his neck.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Blood flowed through his fingers, across the jewels that decorated his perfect hands, and splatted down onto the silk of his spotless white shirt. The monarch made a choked wheezing sound, and Clay drove the dagger back into his neck and twisted it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-pity me.” He ended, releasing the dagger and letting the king fall limp onto his pristine floors.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The numb feeling that washed over him was familiar, as his brain distantly processed that he had taken a life. As he gazed around the room, he took in his surroundings as the king’s gasps and wheezes grew weaker.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clay’s eyes landed on a painting, framed with gold and hung proudly above the king’s lavish bed. His eyes seemed to meet that of the dying king, one last glint of recognition in the rapidly fading eyes of the man, as a realisation dawned on Clay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Three figures were in the painting, the king, as graceful looking as ever, his wife and…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A son. A baby boy that had a button nose, and two striking eyes of icy blue and deep brown respectively. </span>
  <em>
    <span>An heir.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clay whipped around to the king on the ground, who choked out a laugh at the young prince’s realization, before falling limp.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey!! This is the first fic I've written in over a few years, so excuse if it's a little rusty!<br/>that being said, I'm very open to corrections and critique in the comments! I don't bite :]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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